I hate those animal shows on TV in which men pounce on each other and pummel for joy. Near naked bodies that look like maida kneaded with rosemilk fill the screen in all their repulsive glory. I am repulsed even by women that wrestle. And I thought women could look graceful doing anything. Come to think of it, there are several positions in which women don’t look graceful.... like a dentist’s chair or the beauty parlour. But I digress. The wrestlers boast and swear while a crazed crowd cheers maniacally. I’ve been told that most of it is mere drama. I am sure many people enjoy the fights, but they don’t appeal to me.
Some reality shows like ‘You’re fired’ (..or is it called The Apprentice?) disturb me, for the competition is nasty and the situations unreal. Viewership shoots up when ill feelings among participants escalate. The show turns into a monster that feeds on candidates’ greed for fame and fortune. There is even a show where a bachelor picks out a bride from a pool of wannabies (who would want to be?). Production companies grow fat on the desperation of the candidates and the morbid curiosity of the spectators.
As for sob operas – the less said the better.
The kitchen is not my favourite place, but I love cookery shows. I can’t explain the penchant; perhaps it is a vicarious delight to watch someone else chop, fry, bake and serve. I do dislike the stupid anchors of some of these shows who ask the chef inane questions and repeat whatever she says and generally yak away needlessly.
Some ads irritate me while others amuse. The docomo ad with a fellow who gets a change of seat on a flight always makes me smile. “I’m taking a shower, I’m riding in traffic..’ is another that I find cute. The boy who eats while working out earnestly and the infant asleep on her dad’s stomach seem true to life. I like the reliance one with Hritik as the pied piper. My most favouritest ads are the ones with babies – I love their plump feet, their tiny pink toes, crooked smiles (with or without teeth.), their wobbly gait…Oh, I just love babies.
The most funny are party song scenes from old movies. You have a room full of people and the jiltee looks daggers at the jilter who has become another’s sajna/ni and sings about toota dil and bewafaa and pyaar ki nashaa – and nobody is the wiser. Never fails to cheer me.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Bees In The Bonnet
The other day we were talking about the traffic snarls in Bangalore. “Once the Metro is made, the road congestion will reduce,” someone said. Something seemed wrong in that sentence. The subordinate clause was okay, it was the principal clause that felt like a morsel of rice with a stone in it. Wouldn’t it be better to say, “…the congestion will decrease.”? On referring, I found that the two are more or less synonymous. But decrease means to cause something to become less or to become less. Whereas reduce means to cause something to become less . (There are several other differences as well but I refrain from teaching. ) After that I have noticed people using the two as and where they please and the stone gets my teeth each time.
Less appears to be a harmless little word, but it can increase my blood pressure. For one thing it is often used with countable nouns where fewer would be correct; as in there are less organizations that promote eco-friendly drives. My OED says that ‘less is now commonly and more increasingly used with plural nouns instead of fewer’ but it also adds ‘this is still thought to be incorrect English and careful speakers prefer fewer’. Call me outdated, but I writhe to see The Hindu being careless. (What’s more, even the computer doesn’t show it as an error.) But what gets my goat is the use of lesser. It is like saying worser or betterer. Less is already in the comparative degree. An –er isn’t required. Granted lesser is used to refer to something that is not as great as another. (Do go to that delightful book, the dictionary, for the pleasure of words)
Everywhere we see the use of the double comparatives or double superlatives such as she is more stronger or she is the most strongest. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrgh….. need I say more? Of course Shakespeare did write, “That was the most unkindest cut of all.” But then I will allow Bill anything.
Less appears to be a harmless little word, but it can increase my blood pressure. For one thing it is often used with countable nouns where fewer would be correct; as in there are less organizations that promote eco-friendly drives. My OED says that ‘less is now commonly and more increasingly used with plural nouns instead of fewer’ but it also adds ‘this is still thought to be incorrect English and careful speakers prefer fewer’. Call me outdated, but I writhe to see The Hindu being careless. (What’s more, even the computer doesn’t show it as an error.) But what gets my goat is the use of lesser. It is like saying worser or betterer. Less is already in the comparative degree. An –er isn’t required. Granted lesser is used to refer to something that is not as great as another. (Do go to that delightful book, the dictionary, for the pleasure of words)
Everywhere we see the use of the double comparatives or double superlatives such as she is more stronger or she is the most strongest. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrgh….. need I say more? Of course Shakespeare did write, “That was the most unkindest cut of all.” But then I will allow Bill anything.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Brainwave!
Instead of writing "Smoking is Injurious to health" or even "Gutkha causes Cancer", if they wrote that it causes hairloss or baldness, people would get scared into dropping the habit.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Speech Ability
"Gaaldhi gauldhi gaaldhi gauldhi gaaldhi gauldhi....", went 3year old Sivakumar a.k.a Gopi, peering into a book open on his lap, copying his elder siblings who were booklovers all. Gopi hadn't yet learnt the alphabet,but he so wanted to read just like the others. Gopi's gibberish was a preamble to the gift of the gab that he achieved later. Now in his 80's, Gopimamma or Gopes to us nephews and nieces has a colourful vocabulary which would require a separate post to explore.
Succeeding generations have inherited the vibrant lexical competence. I have a cousin who as an infant made a new language with grammar, lexical sense et al. Each of her sentences ended with a 'la la' refrain. Here's a sample:
Babootamma boo tata lala
Ammu Angi opi lala .
The meaning:
Babootamma = Babu's mother
boo = train
tata = go
Ammu = (a proper noun referring to her)self
Angi = Babu's baby bro ( his gurgling sounded like 'annnggggi')
opi = carry
In short; Babu's mom go in a train, I shall take care of the baby.
No wonder that she later became a University topper and now rubs shoulders with the acronym worthy.
Another cousin in infancy was the epitome of innocence, with his deep dimples and soft, quiet ways. When he began school he got along well with his teacher, Miss Martin. He kept asking her if she had a kangutty. She finally asked him what it was. Murali offered to show her and proceeded to pull down his shorts to enlighten Miss Martin. The fellow had invented the word. And now it is a er- family heirloom(?)As for Miss Martin, I'm sure she remembered Murali to her dying day. Today he has 2 brats of his own.
When all my cousins and I went to schools from the same house, there were many secrets to share. We were then adept at using the 'p' language- wepee weper apadepept apat upusiping thepe lapanguapage. This enraged the adults naturally. Another habit which I use even now is anglicising by adding a 'fy' to vernacular, like edukkafy, kulikkafy, koluthafy.
I suppose every family has lexical heritage of its own. But will such histories be made in future?
Succeeding generations have inherited the vibrant lexical competence. I have a cousin who as an infant made a new language with grammar, lexical sense et al. Each of her sentences ended with a 'la la' refrain. Here's a sample:
Babootamma boo tata lala
Ammu Angi opi lala .
The meaning:
Babootamma = Babu's mother
boo = train
tata = go
Ammu = (a proper noun referring to her)self
Angi = Babu's baby bro ( his gurgling sounded like 'annnggggi')
opi = carry
In short; Babu's mom go in a train, I shall take care of the baby.
No wonder that she later became a University topper and now rubs shoulders with the acronym worthy.
Another cousin in infancy was the epitome of innocence, with his deep dimples and soft, quiet ways. When he began school he got along well with his teacher, Miss Martin. He kept asking her if she had a kangutty. She finally asked him what it was. Murali offered to show her and proceeded to pull down his shorts to enlighten Miss Martin. The fellow had invented the word. And now it is a er- family heirloom(?)As for Miss Martin, I'm sure she remembered Murali to her dying day. Today he has 2 brats of his own.
When all my cousins and I went to schools from the same house, there were many secrets to share. We were then adept at using the 'p' language- wepee weper apadepept apat upusiping thepe lapanguapage. This enraged the adults naturally. Another habit which I use even now is anglicising by adding a 'fy' to vernacular, like edukkafy, kulikkafy, koluthafy.
I suppose every family has lexical heritage of its own. But will such histories be made in future?
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Puzzling Thoughts
Whoever said that Variety is the spice of life should be made to shop in a supermarket. Having to choose from an aisle-long range of products will send him scurrying to erase those misleading words. Spice of life, indeed!
Gone are the days when you could pick up the favourite moisturizer or tried and tested toothpaste or familiar cereal. Now you stand in front of the shelves agonizing over Dove Fresh, Dove Body Silk, Dove Extra Dry, Dove Deep moisturizer, Dove Energy Glow, Dove Pro Age… When all I want is my ordinary Dove moisturizer, which has apparently become extinct. Choosing a cereal is pure torture for you’ve got to calculate the ratio and proportion of ingredients, price, weight, nutrients, in Low Fat, Low Cal, No fat, No Cal, Hi Fibre, Bran, Fruit and Nut avatars. Mental sums were never my forte.
Indecision is me when faced with a choice. And invariably, I regret it once the decision is made. Like the other day at a coffee outlet, the Philipino waitress at the counter gave a string of options in an accent I couldn’t comprehend and even if I did, wouldn’t have known what they were. So when she stopped to take a breath at the third recitation, I said that I wanted that. ‘That’ turned out to be Latte Vanilla something and it turned out to be milk with vanilla flavour yyyukkk! It wasn’t even cold and I HATE MILK.
I wonder how people choose mobiles from the sea of brands and varieties. Fortunately I don’t need to choose mine. Aamir Khan sells only Samsung. Besides my mobile needs to telephone or message people. It doesn’t have to sing or calculate for me. Youngsters, I find know every feature, price, pixel and byte of every gadget. One can only imagine their dilemma.
If the market muddles one so, think what life has to offer. Choose your destiny, Your decision today decides your life tomorrow these are the mantras one hears often. No flowing along where life takes you. Every turning point adds to the burden of choosing, always leaving regret of what might have been. Frost wrote a poem on it.
For my mother education was an escape from an early marriage – she could study till she failed. Her parents, I suspect, were eager for that so they could get her married. My mother studied desperately for obvious reasons. In my time too a girl was expected to graduate and then marry. Post graduation and a career were post marriage; provided all agreed. A marriage to a suitable boy found by the elders. Their criteria were family background, job and tolerable looks. The couple were then left to discover differences or similarity in tastes, interests, opinions, attitudes etc. And if one got a Latte Vanilla the girl simply got accustomed to the flavour, added some ice and even cherished the richness of the milk and the texture of the cream.
Today’s girls have so many options that seem more attractive than (drab) matrimony.
So when they do settle down, do they have to choose among all the features available on the candidates and zero in on the ‘right’ one. And then do they expect the person to function faultlessly? (It could be a Latte Vanilla situation) Is it as practical as that or is there something more romantic like chemistry or physics? I presume that men have a worse time making a choice (considering the range of lovely girls that is wider than the range of boys – men are all the same, aren’t they?). But in terms of happiness with their choice they must have more satisfaction – because females are so good …….or is it because males are easy to please?
I can't decide
Gone are the days when you could pick up the favourite moisturizer or tried and tested toothpaste or familiar cereal. Now you stand in front of the shelves agonizing over Dove Fresh, Dove Body Silk, Dove Extra Dry, Dove Deep moisturizer, Dove Energy Glow, Dove Pro Age… When all I want is my ordinary Dove moisturizer, which has apparently become extinct. Choosing a cereal is pure torture for you’ve got to calculate the ratio and proportion of ingredients, price, weight, nutrients, in Low Fat, Low Cal, No fat, No Cal, Hi Fibre, Bran, Fruit and Nut avatars. Mental sums were never my forte.
Indecision is me when faced with a choice. And invariably, I regret it once the decision is made. Like the other day at a coffee outlet, the Philipino waitress at the counter gave a string of options in an accent I couldn’t comprehend and even if I did, wouldn’t have known what they were. So when she stopped to take a breath at the third recitation, I said that I wanted that. ‘That’ turned out to be Latte Vanilla something and it turned out to be milk with vanilla flavour yyyukkk! It wasn’t even cold and I HATE MILK.
I wonder how people choose mobiles from the sea of brands and varieties. Fortunately I don’t need to choose mine. Aamir Khan sells only Samsung. Besides my mobile needs to telephone or message people. It doesn’t have to sing or calculate for me. Youngsters, I find know every feature, price, pixel and byte of every gadget. One can only imagine their dilemma.
If the market muddles one so, think what life has to offer. Choose your destiny, Your decision today decides your life tomorrow these are the mantras one hears often. No flowing along where life takes you. Every turning point adds to the burden of choosing, always leaving regret of what might have been. Frost wrote a poem on it.
For my mother education was an escape from an early marriage – she could study till she failed. Her parents, I suspect, were eager for that so they could get her married. My mother studied desperately for obvious reasons. In my time too a girl was expected to graduate and then marry. Post graduation and a career were post marriage; provided all agreed. A marriage to a suitable boy found by the elders. Their criteria were family background, job and tolerable looks. The couple were then left to discover differences or similarity in tastes, interests, opinions, attitudes etc. And if one got a Latte Vanilla the girl simply got accustomed to the flavour, added some ice and even cherished the richness of the milk and the texture of the cream.
Today’s girls have so many options that seem more attractive than (drab) matrimony.
So when they do settle down, do they have to choose among all the features available on the candidates and zero in on the ‘right’ one. And then do they expect the person to function faultlessly? (It could be a Latte Vanilla situation) Is it as practical as that or is there something more romantic like chemistry or physics? I presume that men have a worse time making a choice (considering the range of lovely girls that is wider than the range of boys – men are all the same, aren’t they?). But in terms of happiness with their choice they must have more satisfaction – because females are so good …….or is it because males are easy to please?
I can't decide
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Tears - 1
The plant grows and grows.
Untame, rebellious.
The Man with his strings
Gathers wayward limbs,
Clumsy, he bunches
The happy young branches
That shoot off and stray,
That can’t grow his way.
The string goes round
the protest of escaped fronds.
He tucks each leaf under
Within bounds of his order.
Tears for the Man, he’s done his duty
Ne’er a thought that wildness holds beauty.
Tears for his hands torn; they bleed,
From the angry thorns of his own seed.
Untame, rebellious.
The Man with his strings
Gathers wayward limbs,
Clumsy, he bunches
The happy young branches
That shoot off and stray,
That can’t grow his way.
The string goes round
the protest of escaped fronds.
He tucks each leaf under
Within bounds of his order.
Tears for the Man, he’s done his duty
Ne’er a thought that wildness holds beauty.
Tears for his hands torn; they bleed,
From the angry thorns of his own seed.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Celebration!
Peel, wash, cut, chop,
Slice, dice, rinse, drop (oops)
Open, close, search, find (yyess)
Scrape, add, mix, grind…
Simmer boil cook shake,
Look smell feel taste (mmmmm?????)
Season splutter pour fry,
Cool store pat dry…
Wash clean wipe drain,
Sharpen open squeeze strain…
Peel wash cut some more
Slice dice till hands get sore
Open replace, don’t forget
Or you’ll waste time when you cook next….
Simmer boil cook wait
Speed up! you are getting late!
Hurryspinrushdrip
Spilltread eeek slip
Crashbang broken glass!
The kitchen floor is now a mess.
Sweepwipegatherthrow
Faster! Faster! Don’t be slow…
Look, It’s gone half past six
Don’t succumb to hysterics.
The bus will come in ten minutes!
Must doll up in three minutes…
RING! RING!! RING!!! RING!!!!
Dash and grab the blasted thing
Greet, smile “Oh thank you,
And HAPPY VISHU to you too!” (pant pant…..)
Written last Vishu after keeping the Kani, and (surprising myself by)preparing a sadya of FOURTEEN items.... on a working day.....single handed!!
I did learn from that mistake.
Slice, dice, rinse, drop (oops)
Open, close, search, find (yyess)
Scrape, add, mix, grind…
Simmer boil cook shake,
Look smell feel taste (mmmmm?????)
Season splutter pour fry,
Cool store pat dry…
Wash clean wipe drain,
Sharpen open squeeze strain…
Peel wash cut some more
Slice dice till hands get sore
Open replace, don’t forget
Or you’ll waste time when you cook next….
Simmer boil cook wait
Speed up! you are getting late!
Hurryspinrushdrip
Spilltread eeek slip
Crashbang broken glass!
The kitchen floor is now a mess.
Sweepwipegatherthrow
Faster! Faster! Don’t be slow…
Look, It’s gone half past six
Don’t succumb to hysterics.
The bus will come in ten minutes!
Must doll up in three minutes…
RING! RING!! RING!!! RING!!!!
Dash and grab the blasted thing
Greet, smile “Oh thank you,
And HAPPY VISHU to you too!” (pant pant…..)
Written last Vishu after keeping the Kani, and (surprising myself by)preparing a sadya of FOURTEEN items.... on a working day.....single handed!!
I did learn from that mistake.
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